Menu

2 Girls. 1 CT. 1001 Things to Say About Dating.

Month: September 2015

Even though I’ve been living in South Africa for the last four years I haven’t seen many movies from this country. The film industry isn’t strong and there aren’t many South African movies available apart from average Afrikaans romantic comedies. Given the context, when the Labia in Cape Town introduced two movies, made by the new generation of South African directors, I had to see them.

Jenna Bass’s love story, “Love the One You Love“, is a based in Cape Town. The main couple we follow is a South African guy, Sandile and a Zimbeabwan girl, Terri. They really love each other but is love ever enough? The other main character, Eugene, can’t get over his lost lover and his close friend is anything but helping him to get over her.

On the positive side, the main couple has a great chemistry and they’re pleasant to watch on the screen together. Chi Mhendi is absolutely brilliant in the portrayal of Terri, Andile Nebulane as Sendile complements her. Their problems are different from those of your average couple but still easy to relate to. There are also a lot of humorous moments in the film. I liked the non-static camera which reminds us of “Blair Witch Project” or more ambitiously of Lars Von Trier’s movies and the dogma movement. The director also has a general sense of aesthetics that makes “Love the One You Love” visually interesting. We also can’t forget about the music that intensifies the particular feel of the movie.

The drawback of the movie are over-dramatisation of the Eugene story. I think the feature would have been much better if it focused solely on the couple. It also seems like the author put a lot of effort to make sure that the movie is politically correct – we have a representative of every race in the cast, even though the sad truth about Cape Town reality is that most people stick to mixing within their own ethnic backgrounds in their social lives. I think that was, what I disliked the most. The portrayal of the New South Africa that’s wishful thinking and not reality. Apartment in Sea Point and parties in Long Street are a part of lifestyle that’s unlikely to belong to Simamkele, who’s a dog handler or his girlfriend, a sex line operator. It’s not to say that each South African movie has to deal with poverty, crime or xenophobia but rather that the privileged vision many of us have makes us sometimes see the world much better than it actually is.

All in all I’d give a 6,5/10 to the movie. Bass seems to be a promising director. It was her debut feature and I’ve seen a lot of first movies of now famous and critically acclaimed directors that had much less potential and charm.

Remember the old times when we used to stay at our parents house and the only way to get some time alone with our partner was when our parents were away? Meaning NEVER. And then the amazing adulthood came with it’s liberties… Only that not really.

The reality of young adulthood is a flat/room share. When you’re still a student, you’re either living in a rez, sharing a room or sharing a flat. Things don’t change that much when you start your career. There are some perks of the share – the main reason we do it is the lower rent. However, the biggest disadvantage is that when we have an actual partner the lack of privacy can get slightly annoying.

Imagine this scenario: romantic dinner at her place, the flatmates are out. You’re in the lounge, she’s cooked for you and over an after-dinner glass of wine you start a making out session. Don’t allow your hot-headed nature to take over, though, this couch may seem like a perfect place for some carnal pleasure but the flatmates may come back at any time. What’s more, you know Murphy’s law and you know they will come back if you stay right there where you are. Of course, if you move to the bedroom they’ll only come back in the morning.

Even the bedroom isn’t a safe space in a flat share. You still have to make sure that you keep your noise levels down when flatmates are around. I know many develop a habit of putting the music on but I assure you that the reason why isn’t a secret and a flatmate knows very well what’s happening between the closed door every time you listen to this techno mix.

The worst is, of course, being caught with no clothes on. It’s not that much better, however, when you’re in the act and quite noisy and you don’t hear that the flatmates getting back till after the deed is done. You know they heard you and your partner moan and the beds(!), they’re so bloody noisy! You can hide after that for a while, you can maybe even manage not to pee and you always thought that eating was overrated anyway, but eventually you will have to go out. Then you see your flatmates and you know that they know and they know that you know that they know. AWKWARD. In a male flatmates version of events if you’re a guy and so is your flatmate you may not be able to escape a conversation and a high-five (Look at their elbow. ALWAYS look at their elbow).

The not-so-secret sexy times are embarrassing for the couple but think about the poor flatmates! Someone in a relationship will probably be understanding and entertained (if it’s not an everyday situation). What if your flatmate is single, though? Ouch! Listening to others having sex when you’re not getting any isn’t nice at all.

Solutions? If one of you were lucky enough to get a good deal and has a bachelor you can opt to use that flat more often. When two apartments don’t make that much sense anymore you can also consider a relationship upgrade called “moving in together” but ideally that move should have your deeper needs as motivation and not only the possibility to have sexy times privately. This, however is a topic for another post. If you’re both stuck in the flat share for the foreseeable future consider getting a variety of CDs and remember that one day you’ll think about this time nostalgically.

Now to you, Dear Rinsers, would you like some to share some of your embarrassing stories? Maybe you want to tell us what your favorite sex CD is/was?

Maybe it’s because of all the rugby players we are currently being forced to perve on but recently I’ve been thinking about traditional concepts of masculinity and how they’ve changed quite dramatically, even in my own lifetime. It seems to me that all the old-school alpha male types are all either married or dead!

I blame Disney for polluting my mind when I was a little girl because those films made me believe that one day this dashing young man (NOT a Prince – even as a child I wasn’t stupid enough to think I could possibly marry royalty, although Prince Harry is still available, ladies) would come along, fight some demons, sweep me off feet and then we’d gallop off into the sunset (in reality I am so clumsy I’d probably fall off the horse).

But then as I grew up I was taught about the suffragettes and women’s rights and how we need to be independent and stand on our feet instead of waiting for some BIG MAN to arrive. This is all well and good and I’m all for equal rights but I am beginning to wonder whether this move towards women becoming more materially successful and independent is necessarily good thing. It seems to me that in the female mission to take over the world, we seem to have broken the male spirit in an epic way.

From my limited experience of the dating game it seems like the type of man that Disney promised doesn’t exist anymore and chivalry is a thing of the past. Look it’s not like we need men to open doors for us (as a marathon runner the physical task of opening a door isn’t going to kill me) but I am not going to complain when they do. And you really begin to question what the world has come to when a small man with a fast horse poses the question: ‘Would you like to kiss?’. No, I’m not advocating face rape here but as one dear friend always says, if he has to ask the question he should already know the answer.

This is not even the worst of it, and maybe it’s more apparent here in South Africa, but it seems to me that everywhere I go I encounter more and more mama’s boys. Nowadays guys not only need a woman that will cook and clean for them (like their mama does) but they are also more than happy for her to be the breadwinner while they sit around on their lazy broke-ass playing computer games. It’s one thing to become complacent when you are comfortably in a stable relationship but men these days are making no effort to hide their fragility even at the dating stage. For example, I recently had a Tinder guy think that suggesting I bring coffee to his workplace legitimately counted as a first date (no joke!).

I probably shouldn’t be so harsh, life is hard for my Tinder boys. And honestly, I am not looking for one of those BIG men who believes that drinking a 100 pints of beer in a night is a great achievement but it would rather not have to ‘lend’ him R5 for the minibus taxi fare to see his next chick. Dudes, its OK to talk about your feelings, cry and even do ballet or get a manicure but please try to draw some inspiration from the Disney Princes instead of listening to everything you mama tells you (cos her advice is really not doing you any favours).

So, what are your thoughts rinsers? In a world where the Boks get the asses kicked by a rugby team called the Cherry Blossoms (sorry, I couldn’t help myself!), is there any hope for that little girl looking for the alpha male that Disney promised her?

According to most of my cool kid friends it’s not OK to admit that you appreciate the musical genius of Taylor Swift. So, basically I am committing social suicide by admitting that Taylor Swift’s 1989 album was what got me through an epic break-up, where I spent days driving around Cape Town with tears streaming down my face while blasting ‘Shake it Off’ on a rude boy sound system. At some point, I felt that every single song on that album was written about my life (a lot of the tracks are about girls who wear pretty dresses and fall in love with bad boys).

But I am not here to convince you to go buy her music. Taylor Swift doesn’t really need any more fans. She is probably more successful than those more socially acceptable artists anyway. I do however wish people would stop hating on her so much and be grateful that she (like yours truly in these blog posts) uses her real life experiences to enhance the quality of her songs. Love her or hate her, she really is putting herself out there to do a service to humanity by letting all those brokenhearted teenage girls and 20-somethings (I’m not quite 30 yet;)) know that they are not alone in their tumultuous journey in search of true love.

Anyway the real reason I am blogging about Taylor Swift is I think her case provides a good insight into the dangers of dating an artist who’ll prioritise their craft over a fleeting ‘love’ affair. Taylor has become famous for using her experiences with past boyfriends as inspiration for her music (The John in ‘Dear John’ is said to be about John Mayer and ‘We Are Never Ever Getting Back’ together was supposedly about Jake Gyllenhaal). It’s even rumoured that her latest beau Calvin Harris has made her sign some non-disclosure agreement stating that she won’t refer to their relationship in a future song.

Haters may hate on this approach as immature (even on the verge of sinking (relation) ship type behaviour) but I believe that there really is some credibility that comes with drawing on personal experiences in your work. From the outset, when my esteemed colleague #zlotybaby and I started this blog we made it clear that we would be sharing real-life dating stories (without explicitly revealing the identities of the men/boys we’d dated). Furthermore I’ve never hidden the fact this blog exists from any of my Tinder boys (it’s part of a clever marketing strategy to get more followers). Yet on more than one occasion I’ve faced a backlash from these poor rejected souls, with the most recent saying (and I quote): ‘you are ugly, presumptuous and no one will EVER marry you’. Cheers dude, you just gave me more excellent blog matter. Love it.

To conclude, there are risks when it comes to dating any sort of artist. The way in which an ‘artist’ expresses themselves might be the very thing that draws you to them in the first place but you need to understand that you may simply end up as part of their story. If you want to date safe, go find yourself a doctor (although they may have access to some drugs that could be used to kill you) or a rocket scientist (might blow you up or something). Appreciate an artist’s honesty, understand love is a dangerous game and that there are risks associated with everything/everyone we do. And if you find that you provide some inspiration for a song/blog post be happy and use it to boost your fragile ego instead of crying like a mama’s boy.

Over to you now Rinsers… Give us your thoughts on the Taylor Swift approach. Is it unethical to share one’s personal experiences of love/dating in the public domain? Or is it fine as long as you are open with the other party from the get go? Answers in the comments below.

We discussed the topic of interracial love in the rainbow nation in which #englishrosiee complains about the South African world not being as accepting of interracial relationships as it would like to pretend to be. Today, I’ll share my personal experience of how it is to be a representative of a group that’s believed to consist of prostitutes, strippers and kept women with looks but no brain.

I must say being Eastern European (EE) had its perks when I was single and on the lookout. Even if you’re just above average in your country, you get +10 for beauty when abroad. Your features are different and “exotic”, you naturally draw (initial) (male) attention to yourself. People (mostly men) will often approach you to ask you personal questions. Your accent is also considered to be quite cute and you may be asked to pronounce words for people (men) so that they can listen more to it. That pretty much sums up the advantages, especially that many people (women) often openly dislike you because of the abovementioned.

The biggest disadvantage of being an EE (an umbrella term for countries that are/were under Russia’s influence) is that there’s a very strong stereotype of EE women working as prostitutes and strippers (that isn’t coming from nowhere but it’s still just-a-sterotype!). There are certain facial features that we have but more importantly there’s the accent that very few of us lose entirely even after years of living in a different country. These characteristics, who knows why, let certain men feel entitled to be disrespectful. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being a sex worker, but asking someone whether they have paid sex/get naked for money, is well, a bit forward. In South Africa I’ve been asked an uncountable number of times whether I’m a stripper, sometimes jokingly sometimes with a clear intent to annoy me, sometimes for real. For instance when I went to a strip club as a guest it was assumed that I was there for an interview. South Africa, however, is still much less driven by stereotypes than Italy, where during a short stay I was approached on the street and asked whether I’m Polish or Romanian and then whether I’d consider an escort position. Another time a waitress vacancy turned, in a blink of an eye, into a sex worker offer (for 50 euro per night! I’m worth more!). Of course, it’s good not to take life too seriously but a joke heard for the millionth time is just not funny.

The EE sterotype is a hinderance in dating as part of it is the “pretty but no brain” image. In other words, EEs can be considered trophies. I remember seeing a guy in my early days in South Africa whom I quite liked till I accidentally saw on his phone that he referred to me as “the Polish chick”. It didn’t take much longer to realize that this was his general attitude towards me, it’d be nice to show me around but actually to deal with me as a person turned out to be too much too him. The objectification is unfortunately a natural consequence of this strong sterotype.

To sum up, next time you meet a hot Eastern European chick remember that 1) she’s a human too 2) she must probably isn’t a prostitute or a stripper so don’t ask unless she offers you her services 3) show some respect to someone who speaks a foreign language fluently even with an accent.

Now to you, Dear Reader. Are you familiar with the EE stereotype? Do you know any EEs? Or maybe you’re one of them and you’d like to share your annoying stories?

I think we can all agree that today we live in a world where when something is broken, we often don’t even try to fix it and instead try to buy a new one (e.g. I’ve been through about half a dozen iPods because it costs almost as much to fix the stupid things when they’re out of guarantee as it would to just buy the brand spanking new model with a whole host of unnecessary features– I am so not an Apple person!).

Through my highly scientific analysis of the dating game (aka sitting around my living room with my dear friends and wasting hours sharing stories about our lost loves) I am beginning to see how this consumerist mentality is infiltrating the world of LOVE. People are now seen as commodities, nobody is irreplaceable. Social hierarchy exists. Whether it’s based on looks, ethnicity (something I’ve been told clearly effects your success in the world of internet dating especially here in the Rainbow Nation), nationality (yes, declaring that you hold a Brit passport on Tinder will certainly make you more eligible), education (come back when you have at least PhD) or income (the fact that he is an unattractive dwarf can be bypassed if he can afford to wine and dine you at fancy wine estates) – hierarchies exist and the asinine individual that tries to mess with this sacred order is bound to get hurt.

Much of this trend, I believe has to do with the technology available to us and the way it has served to widen the pool of potential suitors. Dating apps and websites have made it possible, for a vaguely pretty but proactive girl to potentially line up a date for every night of the week (I admit in a world of pervs, things aren’t so easy for my guy friends). Knowing that one has access to so many options, has allowed us to become fussy. This is exacerbated by the fact that sites like OKCupid let us set filters – you can now shamelessly say you’ll only date a blond haired, blue eyed, rocket scientist, who holds a Brit passport, has run at least 10 Comrades marathons and earns at least a million rand per annum.

People now set standards for what they want and the moment they see that a potential partner falls short, they can discard them to make way for the next suitor. Being a hopeless romantic (who is becoming more jaded everyday) though, I do find this state of affairs rather grim. Firstly, speaking from experience (I’ve probably been on +/- 50 Tinder dates this year), there are certain intangible elements that these arbitrary filters can’t account for – such as banter, chemistry, attraction. By setting standards, we might miss out on some real gems. And then how about further down the line when the person we are dating goes through a tough time? Shouldn’t we help them through and try to fix the problem, rather than just kicking them to curb? Ugh, maybe I’m just being idealistic here, but it seems that this is what our grandparents’ generation did.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t plan on settling for anything less than butterflies. But what I am saying is that maybe we all need to stop being so superficial (comparing people like we do when looking at the specifications of a car), start removing SOME of the filters (I will continue to block anyone who begins a conversation with Hey GORGEOUS!), not lowering but maybe being a bit more flexible with our standards, ignoring the minor setbacks, and focusing on our gut feelings about a person, maybe then we’ll give Prince Charming a fair chance in that epic battle to win our heart.

Give us your thoughts Rinsers… Has dating become yet another consumerist game? Are people becoming to fussy in their quest for the ‘perfect partner’? And will this ‘shopping for a spouse’ attitude just lead to failure in the end? Answers in the comments below…

When I was writing my yesterday’s post on the virginty obsession I was reminded of the movie “Caramel”, which introduced me to the idea of hymen reconstruction procedures .

The 2007 debut feature by a Lebanese director Nadine Labaki is a story of five women living in Beirut. The point of intersection of the stories is a beauty salon, where a popular Middle Eastern method of epilation by caramel is used (hence the title of the movie).

The film focuses on everyday life and struggles that to some extent are shared by most women worldwide. Layale (in this role the movie director herself) is trapped in a bad romance (Gaga ulalalala) with a married man, so much more difficult in a conservative country. Nisrine has lost her virginity before marriage and her upcoming wedding may reveal her secret that could cause a scandal. Rima doesn’t seem to share the men related problems with her friends as she’s secretly playing for the other team and is much more interested in females. Jamale is an aging actress who doesn’t know how to continue her career in the world that favors youth. Rose has spent her life caring for her sister and only old age brought her the first love. Each of the stories is different but they all focus on love related issues.

The movie is definitely worth watching. Even though it was directed a few years ago it didn’t age as its dealing with universal issues. It gives us an insight into a different world that we really know little about and at the same time shows us that across the boarders we all have similar struggles and needs. Whether we’re a closeted lesbian who needs to repress her sexuality or an expat in the City of Cape Town, we equally feel the universal human need to be loved and accepted.

The atmosphere of intimacy of the film makes it very easy to relate to the characters. The Arabic music adds up to the very particular mood of this feature and we’re really sad when it’s over. The film was first screened on the film festival in Cannes and even though it didn’t end up winning a prize, it managed to mesmerize the audience which resulted in its worldwide distribution and made “Caramel”, according to Wikipedia, the most exposed Lebanese movie.

“No Hymen, No Diamond” is an actual Facebook page and it reminds us that in our “enlightened” times virginity fetishism is still an actual thing. The idea behind it is to reinforce the belief that women with no sexual partners (a virgin) before the current one are the only ones that should be taken seriously.

First of all, it’s wrong. Full stop. You can’t evaluate someone’s value on the basis of whether they have or haven’t had sexual partners. In fact, it should be absolutely irrelevant for a current partner if the person took the necessary precautions and didn’t end up spreading their eggs around the world and producing offsprings and/or contracting STDs. People (even women!) don’t (usually) get damaged during sex.

The reasonable argument doesn’t resonate with virginity fetishists. In their heads being a virgin makes a woman pure and more importantly unconquered. A woman isn’t an object, she doesn’t get worn-out or used-up. I can see, however, how convenient for some lazy men an inexperienced partner, who doesn’t know what good sex is about, can be. If you have been eating oats for breakfast all your life, you won’t be complaining about not getting cream cheese and salmon croissants, right?

For many of us the idea of our partner being intimately (or just being) with someone else isn’t nice. Most people start dating in high school and if they’re still single or back on the market in their late twenties/early thirties they’re likely to have had some experiences before. This is just the reality and if we don’t like it than we should stick to our Puritan rules and remain virgins ourselves if that’s what we desire in our partner. However, this suggestion would seem silly to many virgin-wanting men, after all there are double standards and a man’s quality cannot be decreased by the fact that he slept with someone (or even numerous someone’s) before.

The sad part of this story, is that in our “rotten” Western world people are aware of the fact that their partners have pasts and in most cases they don’t obsess about it. The “no hymen, no diamond” mentality, however, is very strong in more conservative/religious parts of the world, where surgeries to restore hymens are very common. In more extreme examples, a woman who dared to have pre-martial sex is believed to have dishonored herself and by extension her family and may end up killed because of that.

I haven’t heard about hymen reconstructions procedures in Poland but the attitude is well known in my home country where a famous globetrotter and a TV personality called Wojciech Cejrowski compared a non-virgin woman to a dirty shirt (and who’d like to wear a shirt with other man’s sweat in it) and told a woman who had sex in Big Brother that’s she’s a slut similar to cheap prostitutes in ports. Lovely.

I don’t even know how to sum up this post apart from the fact that it’s a very very sad trend and I wish the world wasn’t so horrible. In full honesty, however, we all know, that I’m only criticizing the belief because I’m not a virgin myself and no one will ever marry me because of that. Unless I sew myself up, of course, then all will be okay.

Now to you, Dear Reader, what do you think about the virginity obsession? Do you know any men or women who seem to have similar sexist views? Are you maybe one of them?

Call me old fashioned but there are days when I wish I live a few centuries ago when people didn’t have access to modern technology and the only way to communicate with a potential love interest was through snail mail (do people even hand write letters anymore?).

Nowadays, it’s all SMS, WhatsApp, Gchat, Email, Facebook Messenger, etc. What am I moaning about? These advances in modern technology are great. It gives us access to a wider pool of potential other halves. It allows us go get the ball rolling almost instantaneously. For example, if I wake up a realise I have no plans for the evening, I can simply log onto tinder or OKCupid, browse a little, reply to a few messages and voila I have a date set up by lunchtime.

But I think we also need to consider that all these technological innovations and continuous upgrades have their downsides. I admit I am social media addict and Facebook whore who is continuously glued to my phone checking in here, there and everywhere (if I went missing the police really wouldn’t have much difficulty finding me), but there comes a point when you need to question whether the constant connectedness is an actually a good thing, especially when it comes to dating?

Once a person is linked to you via social networks, they not only get an insight into the inner workings of your mind (I really hope nobody judges me for un-PC status updates, etc.) but depending on your usage of such resources, they can pretty much gauge where you are and what you could potentially be up to at any given time (could be useful for the innocent partners of those Ashley Madison types). Because of this access to technology, people can almost demand an instant response from us, and in most cases we have no excuse not to reply (except if like me you’re constantly Tindering you’ll genuinely find that your smartphone will completely die at least three times a day).

In his book, Modern Romance, Aziz Ansari, explores this whole phenomenon of texting power games and how long one should wait before responding to a message from a potential lover interest. Apparently, the longer one holds out (gosh, it sounds like the whole panty-dropping debate resurfacing), the more of an upper-hand they have in any relationship. But doesn’t there just come a point when people start to realise the stupidity of these games? When you consider the time some of us spend waiting for those God awful blue ticks to appear on WhatsApp, surely we could find something more productive to do with their time? Maybe complete a PhD or two?

Anyways, the point I am trying to make is not that we should all throw our Smartphones out the window or smash our laptops (mine is still stolen – so if anyone wants to donate one to me for blogging purposes it would be appreciated). Nor do I expect anyone to take a stroll down to the post box and send their love an old school letter handwritten on pink scented paper (knowing the SA postal service by the time the mail reaches your beau, they’ll most likely me shacked up with some other hussy with a bun in the oven or worse in a retirement home).

What I am saying is that it’s good to stop watching from the blue ticks, switch off the phone occasionally and stop Facebook stalking people (we all do, don’t kid yourself that you are any different). If and when it’s meant to be, it will be. No amount of anxiously staring at the screen of you iPhone is going to make Prince Charming magically appear.

I’d seen a few good reviews of this book on my social media networks so I decided it be a useful read for the purposes of this blog (I hope our Readers understand the love and dedication we put in for your entertainment). The book consists of a bunch of short stories about the Latino community in New Jersey. All but one of these, focuses on one character, Yunior de la Casas, at different stages of his life and shows how different influences have shaped him into a chauvinist pig and eternal mama’s boy (ok, it’s a little bit more complex that, but you see where I am going).

Despite the strange writing style and the weird mix of Spanglish slang and poetic highbrow speak (Yunior goes from being ghetto fabulous to becoming a pervy university professor at Harvard…we aren’t really given the details of how this happens but it’s not the point anyway), the book gives us an interesting insight into the hopelessness of being an immigrant in the USA (it seems like sex is the only thing some of the characters have to look forward too).

Yunior also shares some thoughts about this whole immigrant mentality and how people are very conscious about race and are keen to play their strange ethnic fantasies (seems like between Yunior, his brother and his father they’ve probably worked their way around the world in terms of the chicks they’ve done). The book also covers topics such as dating elders from the male perspective (while some of us young ladies like those silver foxes, Yunior tells us about his experiences with Ms Lora, his cougar-licious high school teacher. Naught naughty)

All in all, the picture painted here is pretty bleak. All of the men are philanderers and all of the female characters are portrayed as worthless sex objects that can be used and abused by these foolish fools. However, it does make you realise that while at times in our lives we feel that these bad boys have it good, jumping from one girl to the next, breaking hearts and humiliating women wherever they go, that in reality there are some deep-seated issues that account for (but don’t justify) their philandering ways. In the end, it’s not the poor chicks that got cheated on that are the losers, it’s the player who actually lives a very meaningless existence because they are never satisfied.

So while I didn’t think it was the best book ever written (maybe it would be better if I read it alongside a Spanish dictionary), it’s an easy enough read, and I believe it would be especially useful for those Ashley Madison types 😉 In fact, all the blokes should go read it as guide on what not to do in life.